“Of course, you don’t. She’s only a housekeeper to you. You’re such a snob sometimes.” Hazel rolled her eyes. “She’s always been supportive of me. Like an aunt or a…second mom. This is actually a great opportunity, Mom, and—”
“Hang on. Wait. Zoey? Zoey Williams hired you? When?”
“I’d talked to her about it off and on and we finalized things last week,” Hazel explained. “I asked her not to tell you yet because I knew you’d—”
Nora gave a weak laugh, feeling a rising hysteria. “Zoey Williams gave you a job. You’re planning to move in with her.”
“Yeah, and it’s all signed and sealed, Mom. There’s nothing more for you to do so I—”
“Hazel, sweetheart, Zoey’s dead,” Nora said, the full implications of Hazel’s words suddenly sinking in. “She died early this morning.”
Hazel stood up, her body shaking. “That’s disgusting, Mom. I knew you’d be unhappy, but to make up such a horrible lie—”
“Hazel…” Nora stood up, too. “Oh, sweetheart.”
“Stop it!” Hazel put out her hands as if to bat Nora away. “Take it back. Say you’re lying.”
“Is this what she wanted to talk to me about last night?” Nora wondered out loud. “No, it can’t be.”
“Say you’re lying!” Hazel stamped her foot on the ground.
Seeing her distress, Nora’s anger vanished and love took over. All she wanted was to sweep Hazel up in a hug and smooth her hair down as though she were five. But, as she put her arms around Hazel, she was pushed away. Hazel ran out of the house, slamming the front door behind her.
*****
Chapter 4
The Poisoned Smoothie
As a parent, you’re only as happy as your unhappiest child. So with Hazel upset, Nora felt rather miserable all day, too. She tried calling her but was met with silence. Worried, Nora decided to head out and figure out where Hazel had vanished to. The one logical place she could think of was Zoey’s house.
But all she found at Zoey’s house was a squad car and tons of yellow tape. Uncertainly, she stood on the sidewalk wondering what to do next, when a movement from one of the houses caught her eye.
A face was staring at her through the window. When she turned to look, a curtain was immediately pulled shut. Suddenly determined, Nora walked up to the house and rang the doorbell. She rang twice more and, just when she was about to give up, the door sprang open. On its other side was same man she’d seen earlier in the day, now out of the janitor’s uniform he’d been wearing and dressed in sweatpants and an old, yellow t-shirt. He was a heavyset man, with a buzz cut, a bulbous nose and a scar on his cheek.
“If you’re a reporter, buzz off!” he exclaimed.
“I’m not a reporter. I’m a friend of Zoey’s,” Nora said. “Well, I was her employer, one of them. My name’s Nora. I just wanted to talk about what you found earlier today.”
“Never heard of you.” The man looked suspicious still. “Zoey told me everything, so how come I never heard of you?”
“Nora Nathaniel? My daughter, Hazel, was planning—”
“Oh!” The man’s face lightened instantly. “You’re Hazel’s mother?” He opened the door wider and cocked his head. “Yeah, I see it. She’s got your eyes, doesn’t she?” He stood aside. “Alright, come on in.”
“You know Hazel?” Nora’s glance flew over his unshaven face and the beer stain on his shirt.
“Yeah, of course. She’s a sweet girl. It’s thanks to her that Zoey ever agreed to date me.” He held out his hand. “My name’s Matt. Matthew Whitman. I’ve been living next to Zoey for the last fifteen years.” His face crumpled a little. “I couldn’t believe it when I found her today. I’m still in shock.”
“How…” Nora was at a loss for words. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she managed. “How long have…had…you been dating her?”
Matt nodded. “Just six months. I was crazy about Zoey. I was ready to marry her, to be honest. But Zoey was always so careful. She wanted to take things slow. But, yeah, we were together. Every morning I’d head over to her place for breakfast. I even had a key to her house and everything. That’s how I found her today.” Matt sank down on an overstuffed plaid sofa and put a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just need a minute,” he said gruffly.
Nora sat across from him, taking in the house. It was messy and not very well cared for. The living room was a mish-mash of used furniture, from two plastic chairs to the plaid sofa to the patched leather recliner on which she was seated. The coffee table held a spiky cactus sitting atop some coffee-stained papers. Nora suddenly held her breath. From under the plaid sofa she could see a single white finger of a discarded glove. What was Matt Whitman doing with a glove under his sofa?
Itching to find out, Nora cleared her throat. “Could I get some water, if it’s not a bother?”
“Sure.” Matt stood up and she saw that he was covering tears under his hand as he half-ran out of the room. Strange, strange man. Nora made a mental note to grill Hazel about him. Why did Hazel even know him? How had she played matchmaker?
More and more, Nora felt as though her daughter were a mystery she would never be able to solve. She’d given birth to her, raised her, loved her. And now she seemed to know nothing about her.
But, for now, these thoughts were like static in the back of her brain. As soon as Matt left the room, Nora was on her knees, looking under his sofa. She wrinkled her nose in disgust — the underside of the sofa had apparently not been vacuumed in decades. In addition to the dirt & dust-bunnies, there was also an empty bottle of cola and a crumpled pack of chips, along with a single glove. Nora quickly got out a plastic baggie from her handbag. Expertly, she managed to pry out the single glove and dump it into her bag and, in a flash, she was back on the recliner just as Matt entered the room again.
He gave her a funny look and Nora’s senses began to overload. Was she breathing too heavily? Was her face red? Once upon a time, back when she was in her twenties, leaning down to look under a sofa would have been easy. Now, it felt a little like a workout — especially since she’d been in a hurry. Nora promised herself she’d start working out more regularly. Who knew how many sofas were out there with gloves under them?
“Y—you’ve got a streak of dirt on your face,” Matt said, touching his left cheek. “Uh...”
“Oh, hmm.” Nora thought quickly. “My eyeliner must have run. Mind if I use your bathroom just a second?”
“Sure.” Matt frowned. He held out a glass of water. “Didn’t you want this?”
Nora grabbed it and gulped it down then, with her cheeks still bulging with water, handed it back to him. She walked to the bathroom and, as soon as the door was shut, poked around in Matt’s medicine cabinet. She wasn’t sure what she’d hoped to find but, between the floss and the aspirin, her eyes found a small, white bottle marked Digoxin.
Nora took a photo with her camera then, wiping her face, walked out. Matt was standing right outside, his hands folded and his face steely.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice gruff. “Why did you come here?”
“I…well…I wanted to talk to you about Zoey,” Nora said.
Sighing, Matt shook his head. “I’m not so sure I want to talk about it. She was so young. Just 60. I was picturing a life with her, you know. When I walked into the kitchen and saw her on the floor, my heart about stopped. I screamed, but it was too late. I knew it the minute I laid eyes on her that it was too late. She was on the floor,” he splayed his hands out grotesquely, “and her hair was matted with smoothie. She was laying in a puddle of it.”
“Smoothie?” Nora’s eyes narrowed.
“Yeah. That was her breakfast every morning. Banana smoothie with chopped mixed berries. She was on a diet again, not that she needed it. She’s in better shape than women half her age, I always said.” Matt’s eyes began to well up again. “Well, that’s all over now.”
“She had the same breakfast every day?” Nor
a asked, confused.
“Sure,” Matt said. “She was big into this thing she called meal prep. So every Sunday and Wednesday she’d prepare a menu for the week. She’d chop up all her fruits and vegetables, roast some chicken or meat, and then neatly store them in the fridge. Mostly, she had a smoothie for breakfast, a salad on the go for lunch and then she’d splurge on a really hearty casserole or pasta or something good for dinner.” Matt sighed. “Last few weeks, I’d come over to her house with my breakfast and we’d sit together, chat a bit. I could never have just a smoothie, though. I need a proper breakfast sandwich.”
Nora tapped her chin. “Now that you mention it, I remember her talking about this. She said it made it much easier for her to eat healthy if she pre-chopped her fruits and vegetables.”
“She was a fanatic about her health,” Matt said. “She told me that when she was only thirty, she had a heart attack scare. The doctor told her she wouldn’t last ten years if she didn’t change her lifestyle and, ever since, she’s been eating healthy.” Matt’s lip began to tremble. “There I go, talking in the present tense again.”
“I’m sorry,” Nora said. “It takes some time getting used to the absence of a loved one.”
“It’s just… unbelievable. I suppose all that lifestyle change was for nothing. It’s so unfair, too. She couldn’t have known that one day, standing at her kitchen counter, her heart would just give out.” Matt shook his head. “I mean, what was the point? If she had to go early, she might as well have gone with fries in one hand and an ice cream in the other.” He sniffed, “Sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“You think it’s a heart attack, then?” Nora asked.
Matt looked up sharply. His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? What else could it be?”
Nora shrugged. “The sheriff didn’t seem entirely sure whether it was natural causes or not. He said forensics would have to find out.”
Matt’s eyes widened and his face went white. “What?” He gasped.
“Oh, didn’t he tell you? I mean…” Nora was observing his face carefully. Sure, it was possible that Matt was just shocked to hear his girlfriend had been poisoned. It was also possible that he was scared — scared of getting caught. Which one was it?
“This is a lot to process.” Matt put one hand out against the wall. “You think someone killed Zoey? But how? There weren’t any wounds. So what? Someone poisoned her?”
Nora shrugged. “It’s entirely possible it was just a heart attack, like you said.”
“But who...” Matt’s voice trailed off. “Unless…last evening. She looked so scared…”
Eagerly, Nora asked, “Did she say anything to you?”
“No. Well, she was supposed to come over at 6:30 for a dinner date. I called her at seven and she sounded downright panicky.”
7pm. That was right before Zoey had come to Nora’s. Perhaps even while she was driving on her way there.
“She said something really weird. She said ‘a silver jacket doesn’t mean anything’. I have no idea what she was going on about, but—”
“Wait, stop! A silver jacket?” Nora frowned at him. “What does that mean? Did you tell the sheriff?”
Matt shook his head. “No. I mean, I forgot all about it until now, to be honest.”
“What exactly did she say?”
“I called her to ask where she was and she said, ‘I don’t know what to do. I just don’t. A silver jacket doesn’t mean anything, does it? I’m being silly. I don’t know where to go.’ I asked her to calm down and explain what she was talking about, but then she said she had to go and hung up.” Matt paused. “By 7:30, I was getting really worried, but she suddenly showed up at my place for dinner. She apologized for being late, said she had to mail a package. But that’s all she said.”
“And the silver jacket? She didn’t mention it again?”
Matt shook his head. “I asked her, but she said she was just being silly, apologized and sort of moved the conversation on. With Zoey, well, if she decided not to tell you something, that was that, you know? I didn’t press. Besides, I was in a romantic mood, and the moon was out. I just didn’t think about it.”
Once again, Nora cursed herself for being so insensitive with Zoey. Zoey had trusted Nora enough to come to her for advice and, for some reason, had changed her mind, deciding she was being silly, and had gone back home. But Zoey hadn’t been silly. Somehow, that silver jacket was important. Nora wished she could turn back time. Five minutes. That’s all she would have needed — a five minute conversation and maybe Zoey would still be alive.
*****
Chapter 5
Brownies
By the time Nora got back home, the sun had almost set. She stepped into an empty kitchen and felt a wave of sadness as she saw Hazel’s still-unwashed cereal bowl sitting on the edge of the sink. Grace had headed back to her own home late last night, and Hazel had insisted on cleaning up after the party had finished. Yet Nora had let one bit of spilt milk annoy her. And then there was the callous way she’d dropped the news of Zoey’s death. She felt terrible.
Deciding to make it up to her, Nora turned the knob on the oven. There was one thing that was always guaranteed to cheer Hazel up. One thing that had been present at every one of her twenty birthdays — Nora’s fudgy brownies. Like her mother, Hazel preferred brownies to cake.
Noisily, Nora banged a saucepan on the stove and began rummaging around inside her fridge. Normally, she’d have used a whole bar of chocolate, but chocolates tended to disappear rapidly in her house. Rooting around the fridge, she found half a slab of white chocolate and half of a caramel bar. Shrugging, she decided it would have to do. She melted it with some butter in the saucepan, stirring continuously on a medium heat. Then, while the mixture was cooling, she pre-heated the oven.
Her mind was blissfully blank as she mixed in the sugar and strained the flour into the batter. Zoey’s death, her fight with Hazel — if only all of life were as simple as baking brownies. Add in the right ingredients, and you can be confident in the result.
Of course, life and parenting weren’t the same as baking. She’d put the exact same ingredients of love and care into Grace and Hazel, yet they’d turned out so different. Nora frowned. Not that she was comparing them — they’d both been unique and special to her since the day they were born. But still…while Nora felt relaxed and confident about Grace, Hazel always filled her up with anxiety. She was always into something.
She remembered back when Hazel was about three. Nora had been chatting out in the backyard with Tina when she’d realized that Hazel had wandered off somewhere. They’d run into the house looking for her but finally found her in the backyard after all. Somehow in the space of two minutes, as the two friends talked, Hazel had found a big, empty garden pot and fallen in. Nora still smiled at the thought of Hazel’s chubby little toddler legs waving in the air as she sat patiently, waiting to be rescued.
It seemed so funny now but, at the time, Nora had had nightmares wondering what if. Normally, you were supposed to be a more relaxed parent with your second child, and an anxiety ridden one with your first. So it was funny that it had worked out opposite for Nora. But Hazel had given Nora a lot more to worry about than Grace. Right from the start — she’d made her appearance a month early — she’d been a weak, sickly baby. Even as a teenager, she’d been quiet and reserved, preferring to spend time alone on a computer rather than make friends.
Nora was prepping as she was thinking and soon the batter was done — a light-brown, gooey concoction that she was just barely able to resist licking. She popped it into the oven and soon the wonderful smell of chocolate and vanilla filled up her kitchen. Just as she was wiping her hands, the front door clicked open. She ran to the living room, hoping it was Hazel, but Harvey walked in instead.
His face looked grim. “I talked to Hazel,” he said.
“Where is she?” Nora asked.”
“She’s staying over at Simone’s tonight with Ambe
r,” Harvey explained.
Nora nodded. Simone was a good friend of Nora’s and her younger daughter, Amber, had been Hazel’s best friend since they were little. “How did she sound?”
“Upset. Really upset. I didn’t realize how close she and Zoey were.” Harvey loosened his tie and ran a hand through his hair.
“I don’t know what to do,” Nora said.
“Neither do I.” Harvey sighed. “It’s a pity about college. She sounds very sure that she never wants to go back.”
“She’s so smart. If she’d only apply herself...” Nora shook her head. “I don’t understand what she’s thinking.”
Harvey laughed. “No? I know someone who preferred the real world to college myself.” He raised his eyebrow at Nora.
Nora bristled. “That was different. I had a career planned out since I was a kid. I wanted to be a chef. I wanted to own my own diner. Maybe I didn’t always get the best grades, but I always had a goal. That’s what worries me most about Hazel. She just seems so directionless.”
Harvey shrugged. “She’s twenty. It’s okay to be directionless at twenty, isn’t it?”
“Not in this day and age,” Nora said. “Things have changed. The world’s so competitive now. And she doesn’t understand the importance of working hard, of getting your ducks in a row. I wish…” Nora sighed. “I just want the best for her.”
“I know.” Harvey walked up to Nora and drew her in a hug, then placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I want the same. But since she’s determined that college isn’t what’s best for her, I came up with a new plan.”
Nora pulled away and raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”
“You can hire her down at the diner,” Harvey said. “I mean, you haven’t been able to work as chef since your carpal tunnel and Angela’s head chef now, but maybe you can teach Hazel your magic ways? Then, one day, when we’re long gone, Hazel can own and manage the Madness Diner.”
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